


Two Left Feet

by casstayinmyass



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Awkward Flirting, Ballroom Dancing, Cunnilingus, Dirty Dancing, Dirty Talk, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Kissing, Moonlight, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Satanic imagery, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Tension, Slow Dancing, Social Anxiety, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:40:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25986772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Copia, inept at flirtation, teaches you how to dance, but forgets the steps in your presence.
Relationships: Cardinal Copia/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	1. Chapter 1

Copia was the best dancer anybody at the clergy had ever seen. He had a dancer’s agility, feet of a ballerina, and most importantly, training since childhood. Papa III came close to rivalling Copia’s moves, but it was only because of his naturally graceful presence that he even compared— although he wasn’t as elegant as Terzo, when it came to skill, Copia had everybody beat.

Never one to flaunt his talents too obnoxiously (at least not publicly), he preferred to get people talking when they saw it for themselves. He found that reputation was developed through the mouths of others, which meant keeping up appearances at social events. Case in point: the dance tomorrow night.

“When you waltz, it is a dance between partners,” Copia explains very seriously to his rat. Polpetta sits there like a round ball of dough, staring back at him with beady eyes. Copia has crept the two of them into the Church’s ballroom, thankfully empty at this time of night, to practice for the upcoming First Annual Autumn Gala, or as Terzo liked to call it with a snicker, _Fall Ball_. The Cardinal doesn’t need this practice, but dancing helps him think sometimes. “It is a connection unbreakable by naught but the end of the song,” he goes on to his tiny audience of one. The rat squeaks. “Yes yes, if I could dance with you as my partner, I would.” Copia heaves a small sigh, regarding the empty space around him. It was lit only by the moonlight streaming in through stained glass, red as it shined through Satan’s depicted face. It was left unsaid that he didn’t have another partner to dance with. Most Siblings found him odd, and in their conclusions they would be right. He _was_ odd, and content to be so. But although he had learned to live with this for nearly fifty years, it did get lonely at times.

He had had a short flirtation of sorts with a Brother of Sin back in his early days as a Cardinal. That hadn’t gone anywhere, and Copia had ended up chewed up and tossed out. A few nights with one particularly adoring Sister here and there kept him satisfied, but he had his eye on one Sister who had never even spoken to him. A high soprano in the Church choir, she had sung on the outro of Papa’s album, and handled herself with a sophistication rivalled by none. She was too lovely—Terzo must have bewitched her into his grasp by now.

“But I am a Cardinal,” he said out loud, voice echoing up to the far ceiling. “She should be attracted to this, no? I am powerful! Not a Papa, but...” He trailed off. That was all bullshit, and he knew it. The position he held didn’t change the fact that he was awkward and the opposite of a suave playboy. “Dammit Papa,” he muttered under his breath, tossing a glance over his shoulder at the statue Terzo had had commissioned of himself. It had been moved in here from the chapel after a stern lecture from Emeritus II. “I should ask you for pointers, but I would probably end up fucking _you_ if I did that.” The naked statue of Lucifer with III’s papal paint on it stared back at him with stone cold eyes, as cold as those of his past lovers. Copia scoffed at the disproportionately huge cock on the thing, and turned back to what he was doing.

He clapped for the waltz music to begin. Once it did, Copia swept a foot to the side, effectively gliding across the marble floor with the ease and precision. No matter how sorely he lacked charm with flirtation, he always had finesse in his dancing to turn to. A small smile crept its way onto his face as Copia fell into the practiced moves, spinning slowly and extending his arms with poise. He felt handsome when he danced, charming and sexy and everything he wished to be called by one who loves him. The Cardinal looked up as he twirled, getting lost in the frescos of fiery brimstone, beautiful and colourful. He slowed, dipping his imaginary partner, then stood with a flourish. Copia turned to his rat, where it was sitting patiently watching him.

“You be honest with me now,” he pointed to the small blob, “Does this costume make my ass look fat?” He grabbed his butt with both hands in a loud _thwap_.

“Excuse me..?”

Copia spun around, eyes wide. “Sister!” He felt sweat prick his temples. Of course, it was the Sister he’d had his eye on. Of _course_ she had just seen him violently fondle his own ass.

“Oh, Cardinal. It’s you. I heard music, and... thought there was some late night choir practice I had missed,” you say, tucking hair behind your ear.

“Ah! No. No, I am just...” He gestures. “Fooling about.”

“It didn’t look like fooling to me,” you say, and step closer to him. “It was beautiful.” Copia’s ears go red.

“That? I was...” He tries to brush it off, but ends up clearing his throat. “Thank you.” You smile back, and look down.

“And... no.”

“Eh?”

“No. I think all of you looks perfect in that costume.” You glance up bashfully. His ears only get redder.

“Oh.” He nods. “I am not so concerned about my a—my buttocks, usually, Sister. It is just that, eh... I ate a whole tray of brownies last night, and.. stress eating, you know how it is...”

“Understandable.”

“Yes, yes.” He clears his throat again. His arms felt awkward just hanging by his sides. Didn’t he have something cooler to do with them? Copia strikes a pose with one hand on his hip and the other behind his head, like he’s a contestant on Italy’s Next Top Model. You raise an eyebrow.

“Were you practicing for the Ball when I found you, Cardinal?”

Copia nods. “I have been dancing for many years. It is a way to relax for me, take off some of the weight of the day. I like Balls very much.” He closes his eyes. “I did not mean it like that. There is nothing wrong with balls of course. Mine, or other people’s. I am not saying mine are particularly revolting or anything, but... they’re not! What was that, Sister?”

“I didn’t say anything,” you reply, trying not to smile. He’s floundering.

“Right. I am going to stop talking about my balls,” he nods, and clasps his hands together. “Eh, I was just practicing the steps of a waltz when you found me.”

“Waltzes look so beautiful,” you sigh. “I wish I could do them. I’m a terrible dancer, I never learned how.” Copia’s neck flushes as you turn away fretfully.

_“Icouldperhapsteachyou.”_

You turn to look over your shoulder at him slyly. “What?”

“I said, the moon is lovely tonight!” he blurts, laughing nervously. You smirk.

“I’d love it if you taught me, Cardinal.” Copia’s dear Polpetta plops down and scampers off in the direction he knows his father’s chambers are. He can sense when an audience is not welcome. Copia takes a deep breath, telling his anxiety to take the night off. He isn’t going to mess this up.

Giving you a bow, he claps for the music to come back on, and extends a gloved hand to you. “Of course, cara mia.” Something in his eyes shift as your fingers curl around his. They narrow slightly, and he tightens his grip on your hand. With a graceful pull, he draws you into him, right up to his chest. “I hope you do not mind if we start close, Sister,” he whispers.

_The closer the better,_ you think, but it comes out as: “I don’t mind.” With a nod, Copia keeps your hand in his, carefully squeezing it. His other hand reaches down to rest respectfully above your hip. You wish he would move it lower.

“Let the music guide your feet,” he whispers in your ear. You look down, and step forward as he steps back. “Alternatively, if the music does not do its job, I will guide you.” He gives a soft smile, and pulls you to the left, snaking his hand to the small of your back. You tilt your head back slightly, feeling eternal under Lucifer’s stained glass gaze and the Cardinal’s arms around you. You had never even spoken to him before, either too busy or too intimidated to approach him. Now, you were slow dancing with him under the fiery frescos of the Boccaccio Ballroom.

“You’re good at this,” you whisper.

“You are not bad yourself. You have never danced?”

“Never.”

“Mm. Yes, Sister... move, just like that.” He chuckles, the reddening skin returning. “It sounds as if we are engaging in a more horizontal activity.”

“We might as well be,” you say, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “I’ve never felt this good while dancing.”

Copia frowns. “You said you had never danced before.” It’s your turn to heat up.

“I meant—”

“It is fine,” he murmurs, guiding your step again. “Sometimes all one needs is another body to feel against theirs on nights as lonely as this one.” His words hit close to home. That’s exactly how you feel, but he’s more than just a body to you tonight.

“I’m glad it was you that I found,” you whisper back. His breath hitches very subtly, but you’re too close to miss it.

“You would not prefer to have found Papa?” Copia rasps in your ear, drawing your arm in to hold your hand against his chest. Your eyes slide shut as he guides your sensual movement.

“Which one?”

“Any,” he says, swaying you along. “Emeritus I has a feather light touch, I am told. Perfect for waltz. Emeritus II has discipline, you and he would make an attractive sight on the dance floor. Emeritus III... he has his charm. He could make you fall into his arms with a single glance.”

“And yet he hasn’t.” Copia’s gaze falls to yours. You don’t break eye contact, encouraged by the gleam in his pale iris. “You’ve charmed me more in five minutes than any of them have since I joined the cloister.” Copia missteps, and swears under his breath. He nearly takes you down with him, but you steady the two of you as he regains his balance.

“Apologies, Sister,” he says, “I was distracted.”

“So was I,” you laugh. With a streak of confidence, you take hold of his arms again, leading. “I think it goes...” You step, and this time, Copia follows your lead. He’s amazed.

“Alrighty, you were pulling my fucking leg when you said you haven’t danced before.”

You laugh again, guiding him along in a twirl. “Maybe I just wanted to dance with you. Is that so unbelievable?”

He takes back control, snaps you up, and dips you. Your head is almost touching the ground as his nose grazes yours. The eye contact is intense—almost penetrating. _“Yes._ I’m afraid it is.” He eases the waltz to an end, and his face softens as he runs a hand through his mousy brown and silver hair. “Would you...” Copia appears to be rewording things in his brain. “That is, if you would like to, of course. Unless you wouldn’t.”

You blink at him. “What?”

“What?”

“You haven’t asked me anything, Cardinal,” you tell him gently. He releases your hands, flicking his head.

“Ah, I have a flatulent head, eh—”

“It’s ‘brain fart’,” you giggle.

“Yes, that.” He sighs, shoulders drooping. “What I am trying so poorly to ask you Sister, is would you be my dance partner at the Gala tomorrow night?”

Your cheeks flush with warmth, a feeling that travels down your body. He looks positively terrified, nothing of the confident, sexually charismatic man you had been dancing with minutes ago. He’s reduced to a nervous wreck, wringing his gloves together as he awaits your response. You can tell he’s about to call off the whole proposal when you answer him.

“There would be no higher honour, Cardinal.” His chest rises in a manner that instantly reveals his excitement. He quickly masks this, giving another short bow and a dorky little clap.

“Stupendo! Ah, great. I will come to your dormitory tomorrow night before the clock strikes twelve.”

“Come to my dormitory tonight?” you whisper. His gaze flits back to you. He steps closer, your toes almost touching his. He seems to take in the sight of you for a second, lingering on your lips.

“No, cara,” he finally says softly. “We must save something to look forward to as we dance tomorrow night, hm?” He strokes down your arm. “But, I will leave you with this.” Copia tilts his head and nudges your chin up to meet your lips with his. Your eyes slide shut, and your hands reach around his waist. Soft lips envelop yours, a few times before your own become slick. Neither of you have opened your mouth—it’s a chaste kiss, but it’s the seal on the envelope bearing tomorrow night’s invitation. Although you can feel evidence of his arousal, the sweet moment ends, the Cardinal pulling back. His lips are parted; he obviously wants more as much as you do. What he lacks in social competence however, he makes up for in self control. “Goodnight, dear Sister,” he whispers, kissing your hand. “Midnight tomorrow, we dance.”

You curtsy to him, and turn to head dutifully back to your chambers. Your thoughts are filled with the dreamlike waltz the two of you shared, and likely would be until better ones replaced them tomorrow.

Watching you walk away with any hope of a gratifying sleep, Copia tries to suppress a groan. You look so lovely from behind... almost as nice as the front. _What you would look like beneath him, bodies gliding together under different circumstances._ He gives a dramatic twirl worthy of Footloose, and ends up staring right at himself in the stained glass.

“What the...?” he whispers, getting closer to his reflection. “Ah, shit! Ah... ah, Hell.” He had a small streak of black paint on his forehead the whole time, and the beautiful Sister still agreed to dance with him. The Olde One had a thing for granting small miracles.


	2. Chapter 2

You check the time, and your reflection once more with it. Copia would be coming to get you in three minutes if he was on time, and you’re sure he would be.

You’re hesitant to admit it to yourself, but you do look beautiful tonight. A sleek black strapless dress that poofs out in ballroom style flatters you, a black spiderweb shawl covering your shoulders. Two dainty grucifix earrings hand from your ears. You look like Morticia Addams was going for a night at a formal, and you love it.

Coming down the corridor to the light of the flickering sconces, Copia was painfully aware of how loud his footsteps were. Every sight and sound right now is amplified to an almost overwhelming degree, thanks to the anxiety that had decided to wait until the last minute to visit. The Cardinal had worn his best dress shoes tonight, along with a smart black suit with a coattail. He looked good... or so he tried to convince himself in the mirror while combing his hair. Maybe he should have jelled it? He patted at his wavy locks fretfully, then realized he had overshot your dorm number. Backpedalling, he stopped at door 69. He squinted at the number, denying himself the snicker, and straightened his shoulders.

“You’re charming,” he told himself softly. “You’re going to charm the pants off her! Hopefully literally. But if not, that is alright. It will be a fun night anyway. Lots of boogying. Lots of—” He waves a hand in front of his face. “Ah shut up, you anxious shit. Let’s get this party started!”

Humming the choral part of Deus In Absentia that you contributed your voice to, you fix your blood red lips one last time, and hear a knock at the door. Your appearance forgotten, you head over to the door and open it. Copia’s there, in a three piece suit. His eyes travel down your body, and you do a twirl for him.

“Ah! I have never seen you out of your habit, Sister,” he says, clasping his hands together. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” Shaking out of his trance, he holds an arm out. “Tempo di festeggiare?”

The two of you glide down the corridors together, your hand on his arm and his head held high. You can tell he’s got the same nerves he did last night, but his energy feels different tonight. You can’t quite put a finger on it.

Sweeping into the Gala, you look around to see beautiful gothic decor and black candles burning, everybody dressed in breathtaking gowns and suits. Dark autumnal colours and traditional religious decoration adorned the walls, inverted crosses covered in beautiful black roses hung and incense intoxicating your senses. Still tortured by the nerves left over from last night, Copia fidgeted beside you, fighting to tear his eyes off of your lovely accentuated bust. 

“A drink?” he asks. You nod, and thank him. You go to stand by the wall as Copia heads over toward the banquet table full of a gluttonous amount of treats, fresh fruit, drinks and wines of all sorts, and the finest tapas. 

“Lovely party, si?” The voice by your side prompts you to turn. Papa Emeritus III stands next to you, munching on an olive. “I tried to get them to hang some spooking bats, but my brothers were not having it. Party poopers.” You chuckle, looking up at your old employer. 

“Bats would have certainly been something.”

“Ah, Sister! You are without refreshment!” He snaps his gloved fingers. “I will get something for you.”

“I’m actually—”

“Or perhaps a dance?” Papa asks, holding out his arm. “You have stolen my breath, you see.” You wonder if it’s the dress you have on tonight, or the amorous mood the room is setting. You’ve seen him looking before, but he hadn’t made a move. Why tonight?

“I’m actually here with someone,” you finish your sentence, smiling. Papa draws back a little.

“I am not surprised,” he contradicts his expression by huffing, “You are very beautiful. Who is lucky enough to dance with you this evening?” You duck your head as Copia approaches you two.

“Cara—your drink.” You accept the goblet, and Copia turns to bow respectfully to Terzo.

“Ah, Papa. You are enjoying your night?”

“Hm. Not as much as you will be,” the youngest Emeritus smirks, and leaves the scene to find his next conquest in line. Copia watches him, taking a massive bite of the cannoli he had taken from the table. Cream spills from his lips, and he quickly hides it with the napkin, blushing.

“He asked me to dance,” you whisper.

“Oh. And you said no?” Copia asks, dabbing at his chin obsessively. You blink at him.

“Why do you still seem so confused by that?” Copia sighs, looking behind him. Terzo’s romancing someone by the fireplace, one arm up on the wall and the other brushing an errant curl off the Sibling’s face.

“I find I pale in comparison to him.”

“And I don’t agree.” You drink from your goblet. “There’s something about you Copia, that makes me weak in the knees. I don’t get weak in the knees.”

“Ah. Well, in that case.” He sets his goblet and napkin down, extending his gloved hand. He’d ask before he lost his nerve again. “May I have this dance?” Butterflies flutter in your stomach as you take his hand, reminiscent of a number from Phantom of the Opera as soft organ music begins to drift over you two. With the ease he implemented last night while practicing with you, he walks you two out, and takes the first step of the dance. You follow.

After the first few steps and brushing the crumbs of the treat off the Cardinal’s shirt, you fall into the same rhythm you had last night in the moonlight. He’s back in his elements, focused, graceful and calm. Your feet seem to move together with his in a dreamlike fluidity, never overstepping and moving together as if the both of you have been dancing partners for years.

“Where did you learn to dance?” you ask, one arm poised around his neck. Copia guides your body, fingers threading through yours.

“It was a small, very private academy. I grew up in an orphanage in the 70s, and we learned every kind of traditional dance, modern dance.” He gives his hips a little wiggle. “Even boogie woogie disco.”

You giggle. “I’d like to see that.”

“Not in your lifetime,” he deadpans. He guides you to sway left with the music, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. “It was hard training. Very strict. I danced every day, learned the waltz, ballroom, ballet, tango, salsa—”

“Salsa!” you exclaim.

“Ah yes, I had quite the ass for it, I—” He sees the look in your eyes. “Don’t even think about it,” he grumbles.

“I think you’ve still got the ass for it.”

“Maybe so, but I only do the salsa in front of my bedroom mirror now.” He frowns. “Why do I say these things out loud?” You continue to giggle, and Copia shakes his head. “How about you, eh? Where did _you_ learn to dance? As we discovered, you are not new.”

“I didn’t really learn,” you admit. “I just picked it up over the years. Functions, dancing with friends, boyfriends...” Copia looks interested at the admission of boyfriends. “...None of them as practiced as you, of course.”

“You are saying that to make me feel better,” he sniffs playfully. “You probably had some 6 foot 4 football player beau who would sweep you off your feet.”

“I don’t need a football player. You’ve already swept me off my feet,” you whisper. Copia blushes again, but this gives him a boost of confidence. He swings you to move again, swirling with you in the middle of the dance floor. The aura of darkness his clothes are giving off tonight is fogging your head—maybe it is the mood of the room, the incense and candlelight.

“May I confess something to you?” he whispers back. When you nod, he goes on. “I think you look like a fallen angel this evening.” Your breath hitches, and you’re reminded instantly of the kiss the two of you shared last night. Nothing had come of it, but somehow, that made the heat in your stomach burn even hotter tonight for him. The image alone of feeling the Cardinal over top of you, between your legs, was enough to send your eyelashes fluttering.

“Copia,” you whisper. “Pull me closer?” You almost miss the soft groan he gives, drawing you in tighter to his body. His eyes close, and you rest your head on his shoulder, the two of you dancing like old lovers after a lifetime of sharing moments like these. His hand comes up to hold your back, moving with every breath you take, and you feel his mustache tickle the side of your neck as he presses a kiss there.

“Non voglio che questo momento finisca,” he breathes.

The piece of music dies down to a soft lull of string instruments played by the ghouls, and you retreat to the corner of the room. Copia is flushed and smiling, a sight that burrows into your heart.

“Did you mean what you said?” you ask. He looks over to you, stricken with panic.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” he looks down, and drags a hand through his hair. “Eh... eheh. Yes. I did wish that moment would last forever, cara mia.” You put a hand on his thigh, directing his gaze back over to you.

“Can I confess something?” He nods, breathless. Your smile grows. “I don’t speak Italian.” The emotional journey that Copia’s expression goes through is worth it as you laugh, keeping your hand planted on his leg.

“You think it is funny?” he murmurs. You look over to him.

“I—”

“I love the sound of your laugh, cara, but if you continue to inch that hand any higher, I will enjoy the sound of something else quite a lot more.” You look over to him, surprised. His eyes are narrowed, and a wave of warmth overtakes your body. He suddenly looks as if he could devour you.

The soft string music the ghouls had been playing pauses as Emeritus II took the stage. Everyone turns to look, and the middle Emeritus brother accepted a microphone. He was robed tonight, skull paint pristine as it was back in his days as Papa. It’s quite obvious being back in full vestments has put the wind back in the middle brother’s sails.

“Sono stato convinto a eseguire una canzone. I have been persuaded to perform a song,” he speaks into the mic, “Lo ammetto, nutre il mio orgoglio essere di nuovo su un palco. I will admit, it feeds my pride to be back up on a stage.” Terzo pauses his flirtations to whistle in support of his brother. “So, I give you a song—spectacle really—I enjoyed singing to no end during my day.” The circus-like opening notes of Secular Haze begin, and Copia takes your hand again.

“Would you like another one?”

“Another what?” you tease, and his jaw clenches.

“Don’t be hasty, cara. I will be asking you the same question tonight.” You gasp as you sweeps out to the dance floor with him, weaving through the others and taking the center of the floor. His grip on your hand is tighter this time, eyes never leaving yours. It’s as if Copia has you under some kind of spell, the same spell that caused his flip in personality. He leans in to speak.

“When our bodies are locked like this... my hand touching your hip, our fingers entwined. I am reminded of my dream last night.”

“What dream?” you venture to ask.

“It was the two of us,” he recalls, drawing you in even closer. You can feel him hard in his pants, and you try not to moan from the discovery. “We were in the ballroom, but it was like last night, nobody around to see or hear. The moonlight shone through Satan’s eyes in the stained glass, over your body.”

“What was I doing?” you breathe.

“Your dress dropped to pool at your ankles as if you were climbing, bare to me, from a pit of shadow,” Copia growls. “The next sensation I felt was how you so slowly sank down onto my cock, receiving me so well.”

“Copia...” 

“The way you rocked back and forth, hips gliding like you were dancing on top of me... it was like I was lost, buried in the sea of your warmth. It was infernal, how sinfully sweet. Your want for this is great, no?”

“Yes,” you whimper, falling further into his arms.

“But you have no idea how badly I wanted to touch,” he rasps. “I almost came in my sleep imagining what I did, but when I woke up, cock hard and throbbing against my hip, I did not touch. Do you know why I did not do this?” His breath ghosts along your cheek. You can’t reply—your eyes convey your curiosity. “—Because it is my obligation, cara, to give myself wholly to you tonight. I did not want to waste a drop on a night so lonely.”

“ _Weave us of mist, fog weaver,”_ Emeritus II sings. _“Hide us in shadows...”_

“I’m glad you waited,” you tell him. The dark chorus of the song descends over you two. “I did too.” His intense gaze only grows as he whisks the two of you around in a spin. The rest of the ball is a blur and Copia the only focus. The tale of the Devil dancing a maiden down to Hell crosses your mind. The gleam in his white eye seems devilish indeed, perfectly wicked, and the floor beneath you feels as though it could very well light up in flame at any moment. You move back in, resting your forearm against his upper back as you lean up to whisper in his ear. “Last night, I imagined you using your tongue on me until I came.” Copia’s gaze darkens.

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

His voice whispers, as if into your mind. “Did you... cum?”

“No.” Your voice wavers. “I’ve waited to make the dream a reality.”

“May I do so now?”

Your eyes widen. “Here?”

He gestures down. “Your skirts. They are very big.” You look down to them, and have to admit that they are. With a furtive glance around, you take his hand, leading the Cardinal off the dance floor to a dark corner of the ball. Nobody is looking, occupied with the grand ending of the song. Copia stands behind you, and when you give him a little kick with your heel that the coast is clear, he gets on his knees, lifting up your dress and crawling under it.

You look around, trying to act natural as you feel Copia’s gloved hands stroke up your legs. He starts from the calves, moving up to slide from the outside to inside of your thighs. Your lips part, and you take a deep breath. Hopefully you can hold face long enough for him to work. You feel his lips press soft kisses to the backs of your thighs, hands sliding up and down your inner thighs still with feather light touches. He starts to knead the skin there deeper, and your knees feel a little weak.

“Left you alone, did he? The man does not know a treasure when he sees one.” You don’t even have to turn to know who’s talking. Copia pauses his ministrations under your skirt, but you squeeze his head between your thighs to keep him going.

“Papa. Hello.” _He really isn’t giving up tonight_. To his credit, Papa puts his hands up.

“I did not come to proposition. Papa is only teasing you, si?”

 _That’s fine. Could you tease me another time?_ you think, biting your lip. You give him a charming smile instead. “Copia’s in the washroom. He’ll be back in a minute.”

“You know what he is doing in there, eh?” Your gaze snaps up to the youngest Emeritus. “Oh, fixing his hair, of course.” He winks.

“Of course.” You let out a small gasp as you feel Copia’s tongue dart out to lap at your panties.

“Sister! Are you not well?” Papa asked, legitimately concerned.

“No, I...” Your eyelids quiver as Copia flutters his tongue against your clit through the fabric. “...I only forgot my rosary.”

“Oh,” Papa nods. “Well, it is a night of merriment. I’m sure the Dark Lord wouldn’t mind that you didn’t bring it with you. Besides,” he pinches his own earlobes in reference to yours. “You’ve got those grucifix dangly, eh... orecchini?”

“Earrings,” you smile.

“Si! They are more than enough, I am thinking.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.” You suppress another gasp, feeling Copia’s fingers twist into your panties. He gently pulls them down, and you brace yourself for the sensation of his tongue against your bare pussy, straightening your back in preparation. Your thighs rub on either side of Copia’s face against his sideburns, and you feel his nose nudging at your clit.

“Since you do not fancy my company tonight, perhaps you could help me find someone to _defile_.”

“I’m... a little busy,” you murmur.

“—You see, Brother Delano has been making eyes at me all evening, but I have had him twice before, and I was hoping for a bit of a surprise tonight. Sister Samara looks very striking, but she is of my brother’s harem, and I’m not in a very sneaky mood, or a mood to bruise my beautiful face with a fist...”

You suppose it’s a good thing he’s doing all this talking. It gives you the opportunity to focus on Copia without thinking up answers. Your attention returns to the head between your legs, and it appears Copia’s tuned him out, too. His tongue licks back down through your lips, then up to swirl around your clit.

“Oh,” you moan, bracing a hand on Papa’s shoulder. Terzo immediately grabs it to steady you.

“You are alright, si? You do not brush your ailments off for my sake?”

“I’m fine,” you gasp. “I... forgot something else.”

“You know, I do the same. Primo always used to say I would lose my head if I did not have it attached to my shoulders. That would be quite the sight.” He goes back to chattering as you calm yourself. Copia’s not sparing anything—he’s working your clit hard, desperately circling it with his tongue while slurping at the slick from your cunt. He’s truly feasting, and your pussy clenches when you feel the vibration of a moan against your core. Your head starts to spin as his unrelenting sucking lays the foundation for your orgasm. You start to feel it build, and fist your hands in your ball gown, squeezing your thighs tighter against his head in a grinding motion. His hands come up to hold the meat of your thighs, and he’s surprisingly strong, steadying your shaking limbs. You can feel him humping the bottom of your leg as he licks.

“—But I am very happy for you, cara. I have always wanted to get my hands on the Cardinale.” Copia’s tongue stalled between your legs, and your eyes widen. “You will tell me how well-endowed he is, no?” Papa elbows you with a laugh. “Those tight pants cannot hide what it beneath forever.”

“I...” you stutter out.

“Unless you do not plan to spend the night in his bed. In which case, I will tell _you_.” You swallow, face heating up. Papa III was a bit much sometimes. You’re about to cum hard, and you don’t want anyone to see. You glance over to Terzo to see if he’s watching too intently, but he’s preoccupied now watching a Brother he had been eyeing sashay toward the door. He turns back to shoot Terzo a come hither look, and Papa slicks his hair back, giving you a pat on the shoulder. “Comunque. I pray your Cardinal returns soon. Buonanotte, cara!” You feel a flush heat your cheeks at Copia being called your Cardinal, as you watch Papa chase his current bedfellow. Thankfully, you don’t have to put on a show anymore—not as much of one, anyway. You’ve gone relatively unobserved by the congregation thus far. As you relax back into the sensations though, your eyes open on the eldest brother of the Papacy.

“Sister,” he greets, bowing low. His voice comes out like a paper thin hiss. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t slightly frightened of Primo Emeritus and tonight does nothing to ease those fears. His formality is intimidating, and he looks positively ghoulish tonight, as if his skin was melting off his frail old bones in an expression of existential horror. You suppose that’s a mean thought. He’s rumoured to be a gentle man, and has in true fashion been nothing but kind to you.

“Papa,” you greet in turn. “You’re looking well.”

“I thank you. I have seen you with the Cardinal tonight,” he says, gesturing with his hand. “I was hoping to discuss the latest chapter of Walpole’s The Castle Of Otranto with him, from our gentleman’s book club.”

“Oh,” you nod, trying to swallow another moan. You wince—you probably look like a fool in front of the eldest brother. “He... he’s indisposed at the moment, but I’ll let him know you were asking for him.” Primo bows his head low again in a grand gesture, backing away and taking his leave.

“Copia,” you breathe, patting his back behind you. His fingers tighten on your legs, and you nearly crumple to the ground as you race toward your climax. You want it so bad, you want him to fill you, fuck you until you can’t breathe. “ _Fuck_ ,” you whisper, eyes closing. Copia moans again against your cunt, and the vibrations send you over the edge. He doesn’t stop sucking, licking and sucking every last bit up like a starving man. When you begin to feel oversensitive, you release your thighs, and Copia gets the message. You nudge him back to come out when you’ve seen the coast is clear. He stands beside you, and you expect to find a blushing mess. Instead, he looks absolutely feral. You look down to see a noticeable wet patch in his pants, from where he obviously came eating you out.

“Your mustache...” you say, looking at the facial hair. It’s painted in your slick, making his black top lip shine. “Everybody will—”

“I don’t give a fuck,” he growls, and walks you back toward the curtains. Taking you inside them, he covers you both with the heavy black drapes, and bunches up your skirts.

“Cardinal,” you whisper, biting your lip. “Shouldn’t we go back to your room? It would give you enough time to...” You gesture down. 

“I have been waiting since last night to take you, and these pants leave nothing to the imagination,” he mutters in your ear, working the bust of your dress down. “I expect you do not want to wait either.” He punctuates his frustration with a small tear to the front of your dress. The both of you are stunned for a second, but Copia recovers quickly, a slight blush covering his cheeks. “I can... eh, fix that that.” The blush gets deeper, but momentum isn’t lost. “Anyway,” his voice drops a couple of octaves, “In reference to my stamina, I have not spent all of myself just yet.” His hips grind forward against you, and your hands scramble down to undo him. He grabs you by the wrists, pinning them back against the window. “Non più di quello. You will cum from my hands alone tonight.” Letting you go, he reaches down to pull himself out. “Kiss me?”

_“Yes.”_

His lips press against yours, the urgent kiss fuelling his arousal. His groan is low as he jerks a hand up himself, stroking in the practiced movements of every man touching himself just how he likes. Once it begins to harden again and rise impressively, you look down to see the pre drip from the tip of his cock and onto his glove. Instinctively, your tongue darts out desperate to taste it. Copia notices. “You would like to lick it up, mm?” he asks, and swipes the droplets of precum with his opposite index finger, feeding it to you. You lick it up greedily, holding seductive eye contact.

Wasting no time, Copia parts your legs, leaning in to bury his face in your neck. With peppered kisses up your jaw, he positions himself, and uses his other hand to fist in your hair, keeping your head back against the window. With one push, he buries himself inside your warm pussy, pushing as deep as he can. You lift a leg up to wrap around him, and with the hand not buried in your hair, he hoists the leg up higher, holding you under your thigh.

“Perhaps we make new fantasies tonight, yes?” he breathes in your ear, pulling out only to pump back in again. You whine softly, the slick from your first orgasm making the slide easy. “I think I would like that. The feeling of you receiving me this way will find its way into my dreams for nights to come. In fact, it is what I thought while dancing with you.”

“Cardinal,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing your head to his chest.

“Now perhaps whenever I dance, I will think of your body moving with mine when I hold you. How sweet you smell.” He leans in to drag his bottom lip along your earlobe, reaching down at the same time to stroke your clit. “How sweet you taste.” He rocks up into you at the perfect pace, each burst of pleasure pushing you closer. Each time he draws out you feel empty—you want to keep him inside you forever.

“I’ll never forget the dance,” you breathe, trying to hush your gasped moans. “I’ll never forget—this!” Your mouth falls open, Copia’s thrusts punctuating your words with staccato rhythm.

“No,” he growls in your ear, “I will make sure of that.” His fingers sink further into your thigh, almost bruising, and the hand snakes back up from your clit to your hair, keeping the column of your throat open for him to mark. He presses a kiss there, sucking the skin and grazing his teeth along it.

“Ah—ah, Copia—”

“Tell everyone. Tell the whole ball who fucks you so well, whose cock you’re going to cum on, hm?” He circles his hips up to grind his open pants against your bud, with the same practiced movements of a dancer. 

“C—opia!”

“Finish on my cock Sister, and complete this infernal dance of ours.” His lips trail up again, one hand closing around your exposed breast. Copia gives you two more all-consuming thrusts, overwhelming you and taking you to the pinnacle. For the second time that night, you cum, crying into his shoulder. Copia’s lips part, and a soft grunt escapes him as his body seizes up. You feel him still inside of you as the burst of warmth coats you inside. Copia’s ecstasy runs its course with yours.

“Ah, shit,” he whispers, ears turning red. “I... I did not mean to cum inside of you. I—we can visit the nurse, and—” You put a finger to his lips, smiling.

“It’s okay. I don’t mind.” His shoulders relax a little, and he lets your leg down gently, shaking his sore arm out. Clearing his throat and rubbing the back of his neck, he awkwardly stands in front of you, body covering yours.

“Eh. Well.”

“We’re gonna have to go back out there. From behind this curtain. Together.”

“Yes, si. I didn’t think this through.” He looks down to his crotch, where the wet patch of his ejaculation had mostly dried out. He still looks like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown, so you venture to bring back a little of the fire you had just had the pleasure of experiencing. Smile growing, you close your eyes, take Copia by the chin, and draw him in for a soft kiss. He moans against your lips, gently taking your top lip between his in a gesture of affection. He turns his head to deepen the kiss, bringing both hands up to cup your cheeks with his gloves, then brush your hair behind your ears. You kiss him again, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing. The Cardinal’s body relaxes more with each passing second trapped in the embrace. When the two of you finally part, he stares down at you in wonder.

“How have you bewitched me so?”

“It all started with a proposal to dance,” you smirk, and twist around him to exit the curtain first. Copia follows you out, glancing both ways to check and see if people were watching. Finally encouraged he was safe, he takes a step out of the curtain. Eyeing the refreshments table where you had sauntered, he goes to approach, already picturing the sweet treats he loved to gorge himself on.

“Cardinal.”

“Ai!” Copia shouted in fear, then clapped a hand over his mouth as he whipped around. “Primo! Your Ex Excellency, I was...” He swallows the lump in his throat. “I was looking for my sweetheart.”

“Yes?” the old man smiles slightly. “Does she happen to be indisposed at the moment?” Copia sets his hands on his hips with a nervous laugh.

“You know, as a matter of fact—”

“It is alright, Cardinal,” Primo pats Copia on the shoulder. “We will discuss the book tomorrow. Perhaps when you have done up your pants.” Copia’s hands fly to cover his crotch, and Primo gives his sweeping bow in amusement, drifting off like a spectre. You come over to Copia, and give him a cannoli you had taken a bite out of. He nibbles some cream from the side while he buttons himself up quickly.

“Primo congratulating you on your prowess?” you tease.

“Mm. I should be happy it was not Papa. He would have announced it to the entire fucking ballroom.”

A tap on the shoulder, and Copia turns. “Speak of the devil, he shall appear,” Terzo says, flashing a grin.

“Ah—”

“Brother Lucien and I finished in the closet a long time ago, amico. But afterwards when we out for il fumo, we just happened to look up.”

“Oh no,” you whisper.

“I am not certain you noticed this, but eh—you do realize you were fucking against a transparent window?” As Copia tries to hide behind his cannoli, Terzo gives you two a cheeky wave, heading out with a new Sister on his arm as he puts his finger to his lips, signifying the secret would return to the dirt with him.

“Now that that’s taken care of,” you say, taking Copia’s arm, “What would you like to do?” Your other hand snakes around his waist, and Copia turns to look down at you. The redness blushing his freckled cheeks slowly starts to fade as he regards your eyes looking up into his. He backs away a few paces, and extends a hand.

“Cara mia. May I have one last dance, on this night as unforgettable as you?”


End file.
